The Conversation
by lunatic922
Summary: Melissa and Scott finally discuss the truth. No longer a one-shot. My first foray into fanfic. Update: Thanks for the faves and reviews, I appreciate them! And this story just won't leave me alone, so I'm gonna continue it as the inspiration hits me. Side note: chapters 3 and later take place after my story "Unphased"
1. Conversation

"Ok, so what did you do now?" Melissa McCall eyed her son Scott from across the table. They were finishing dinner in their modest kitchen, empty sauce-covered plates and a half-eaten pan of lasagna the only remains of a successful meal.

"What makes you think I did anything wrong?" Because she was his mother, Melissa was immune to his tactic of feigning innocence by blinking his long-lashed brown eyes.

"Please. I come home to a spotless house. The table's set and you've made dinner from scratch-which was pretty great, by the way. If you haven't done anything wrong then you're buttering me up for a favor. To which, my answer is no."

"I didn't do anything wrong and I don't need a favor!" Scott protested. "It's just that this is the first time we've been able to have dinner together in a while." Scott picked up his fork and began rolling the stem between his forefinger and thumb. "And I thought maybe, you know, we could talk. About what happened."

Melissa plucked an imaginary piece of lint off the sleeve of her nurses' scrubs-the plum-colored outfit was last year's mother's day gift from Scott.

"Oh."

He was right. Tonight was the first time they'd shared a meal together in the last two-and-a-half weeks. And it wasn't a coincidence, although Scott might not know it.

Melissa had been avoiding him since the night at the police station. The night they, along with the Sheriff and Scott's best friend Stiles, had been taken hostage by that disturbed boy behind the recent string of murders. That night she discovered that Scott wasn't just her son, but something else.

_A monster._

The thought pushed its way into her mind, and Melissa fought to beat it back. She wasn't sure what the truth was. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Scott put his fork down and began playing with the zipper on his hoodie.

"We _have_ to talk about it," he said softly. "I want you to understand that everything that's been going on isn't because of something you did. Or didn't do. Or because of Dad."

He looked up at her. She looked away.

"It's not like I wanted you to find out about this," he spread his hands, gesturing to an imaginary object on the table. "But you did. And you can't avoid me forever."

So he _had_ noticed.

"Scott, I can't...I'm not ready. I'm not ready to talk."

"I know, but...things are dangerous for me, Mom. I need you to understand what's going on so I can keep you safe," he continued, frustration creeping into his voice. "You have to let me explain. You have to understand."

"I don't even know what it is I found out!"

"I'm a werewolf."

"What?" Melissa laughed. Despite everything that happened the past few weeks, the whole idea seemed too absurd to consider. "Werewolves exist in bad horror movies, Scott. They're the creations of some special effects department. They're not real."

"Trust me, they," Scott corrected himself, "_we_ are."

He held up his right hand. Melissa watched in horror as his fingers grew longer and his fingernails became razor-sharp claws. She gasped. In an instant, the claws melted away, to become ordinary fingers once again.

Scott looked down at the floor.

"I think I need a drink." Melissa sprang up from the table. She pulled a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge and poured herself a large glass. She sat and promptly downed half her glass in a single swallow. Scott raised his eyebrows.

"Better?"

"Much. How...how did it happen? How did you become..." she couldn't bring herself to say the word out loud. "You know."

"I was bitten. In the preserve."

"When?"

"Almost five months ago."

Five months. And she never realized. She thought the mood swings, the plummeting grades, and sullen behavior were just the result of Scott becoming a teenager. She knew eventually her luck would run out and he'd stop being the easygoing kid he'd always been. She just didn't expect this.

"What were you doing in the preserve at night?"

Scott shifted uncomfortably.

"Um, Stiles and I were looking for a dead body. His dad got a call and we wanted to see, you know, what was going on."

"You did what?!" A wave of anger washed over Melissa. "Do you have any idea how reckless that was? You could have been hurt! Or gotten lost! Or worse, you could have been..."

"Been bitten by a werewolf." Scott said darkly.

She wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she motioned for him to continue.

"Stiles got busted by his dad. I was walking home when I almost got trampled by a herd of deer. And then I landed on the other half of the body."

"The other half?" Melissa paled.

"Well, yeah. Turns out she'd been cut in half by the Argents."

"You know, I think I'm going to need another glass before I hear the rest of this story."

By the time Scott had finished telling her about the Hales, the Argents, and Jackson the Kanima, three hours had passed and Melissa was seriously considering that she and Scott relocate to a safer town. Preferably one without werewolves. Or hunters. Or murderous lizards. On the other side of the country. Maybe another continent, just to be safe. Europe would be good. She'd always liked Italy.

"So, Jackson's like you now?"

"Yeah, I guess. Although, I've never killed anyone." Scott replied drily.

Melissa grimaced. "Is he part of Derek's herd now?"

"Pack, Mom. Derek's _pack_."

"Fine. Pack."

"And I don't know. We haven't really talked since that night at the warehouse."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Scott asked.

"Have you joined Derek's her...pack?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because. Derek's a terrible alpha, he doesn't trust anyone, he doesn't know anything about helping someone who's been turned," Scott ticked the reasons off on his fingers, "He's always keeping secrets.."

"That's rich, coming from you."

Scott glared at his mom.

"He'll protect someone, but only if it doesn't interfere with his own agenda! He was willing to kill Jackson, even though we could have saved him! How am I supposed to follow someone like that?"

"But," concern filled Melissa's voice, "wouldn't you be safer? You said so yourself, you're stronger together."

"Honestly, I don't know if I would be safer in Derek's pack." The teen slumped in his chair.

Desperate to change the subject and emboldened by the wine, Melissa asked a question she'd been too chicken to ask earlier.

"Can I see you change again?"

"What?" The question caught Scott off guard. "You want to see me shift?"

"If that's ok."

He stood up and moved to the center of the room. "You're sure?"

She took a sip and nodded, afraid her voice might betray her fear.

"Ok."

She watched as the innocent features of her son's face became a grotesque mask._ That's not Scott. It can't be_. She knew what she had seen, but she couldn't believe that the thing looming before her was her child, her flesh and blood.

The imposter in her son's clothes stood perfectly still, fear in its eyes. Slowly, Melissa stood up and approached it.

Gingerly, she reached out her left hand to touch its face and the creature winced, as if expecting something worse. The skin was rough and unfamiliar. The black hair felt like the wiry fur of a German Shepherd.

Finally, she forced herself to look into the creature's yellow eyes. Surprised, she recognized Scott looking back at her from those alien orbs. In that moment, she saw only her little boy and her fear vanished.

"Do you hate me?" Scott asked in a whisper.

Melissa wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh, honey. I could never hate you. No matter what, you'll always be my son. And I'll always love you."

She felt the tension leave his body and his features regain their usual boyish softness. He embraced her tightly.

"Always," she promised.


	2. Preparation

It had been a long time since anyone had rung the doorbell at the Stilinski household. So long, in fact, that Stiles Stilinski completely ignored the first chorus that chimed through the house. He finally paused his video game during the insistent barrage of ringing that followed two minutes later.

"Hang on, I'm coming," he grumbled. Though he'd been up for hours he was still wearing his t-shirt and flannel pj pants. "Who uses the doorbell anyway?"

He assumed it must be a stranger, because his best friend Scott just used the window and nobody else ever really came to visit. Couldn't be someone to see his dad about work, since his dad was on patrol that morning. Had to be some sort of Girl Scout or bleeding heart campaigning for the latest political cause. The visitor began to get on his nerves when they rang the bell again.

"Alright!" He flung open the door to glare at the intruder. "Mrs. McCall?"

Scott's mom was not even remotely on his list of potential visitors. In fact, she was somewhere between Jackson Whittemore and the Queen of England.

"Stiles. Hi." The petite woman stood awkwardly on the front steps. Despite the mild morning air she wore a sweater that she hugged close to her body. Faint shadows below her eyes indicated she hadn't slept the night before. She clasped and unclasped her hands. "Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"About Scott. About, you know, this Thursday?"

"Thursday?" Stiles was stumped. He hadn't the faintest idea what could be special about Thursday. Then it hit him. There was one thing that affected Scott more than most people. In fact, it completely changed him.

"You want to talk about the full moon."

"Yes. Can I come in?"

"Oh, sure." He stepped away from the door to let her pass. She slipped inside and he quietly shut the door behind her. "Water?"

She nodded and he quickly ran to the kitchen. Nervously he began opening cabinets at random, searching for a clean glass.

If Mrs. McCall was here to talk about the full moon then that meant she wanted to talk about werewolves. Which meant Scott had finally told her he what he actually was-a werewolf.

Stiles was all for bringing her into the fold, but her appearance at his front door meant she didn't want to talk to Scott about his monthly condition. She wanted to talk to_ him_ about it. He wasn't sure he was prepared to handle talking to his best friend's mom about the fact that the full moon occasionally turned him into fanged creature of myth. It was weird. And complicated. And had to break some sort of rule in the bro-code.

Although, he had to admit the idea of being able to talk to another normal human about this sort of thing appealed to him. Someone else who wasn't some sort of shape-shifter, crazed psycopath, or armed vigilante. It might be refreshing to be the one who had the inside information for a change.

He finally located a clean glass and filled it with tap water. He threw in a couple ice cubes and headed back to the hallway. He proffered the glass to Mrs. McCall.

"Thanks."

"Uh, living room?" The teen suggested. He swept his arm toward the room in a gesture grander than the surroundings deserved.

"What about your Dad?"

"Oh, it's 10:30 am. Coffee and donut run. Then he usually does a few slow circuits around town. Since it's Saturday, that means he'll hit the park, followed by the lake and maybe the school. We've got a good three hours. Easy."

Mrs. McCall sat on the couch closest to the doorway. Stiles took a seat on the adjacent recliner.

"So." He ran his hands through his hair, unsure how to begin one of the most uncomfortable conversations of his life. Well, his week. Given the amount of supernatural nonsense he'd been dealing with lately, his week could always get weirder. For a few moments they didn't speak. "This is awkward."

"Scott and I talked last night. About what's been going on the past few months. With him."

"Oh. That's…that's great. How'd it go?"

She leaned forwards and held her head in her hands. She looked so fragile, like she might break at the slightest touch. All at once he felt like he was the adult and she was the child. Stiles sighed.

To be swallowed up by something so strange, so unbelievable was a lot for anyone to process. Coping with your entire worldview shifting took a lot out of you. He knew.

"Listen. It's not that bad. I mean, it's gotten a lot better."

"You were all nearly killed by your friend who turned into a lizard and was being controlled by one of your classmates."

"Point taken. But, Jackson isn't the kanima anymore, he's a werewolf now, so that's progress. And we did get rid of the alpha who was killing everyone before." Stiles bit his lip. Of course, Peter had come back from the dead somehow. Refusing to be defeated, he continued. "Oh! The Argents aren't trying to kill Scott. Especially since there are so many other werewolves in town now. I mean, they'll all be keeping the hunters busy during the full moon."

Mrs. McCall glared.

"And you don't really want to hear about all that. Um, right. So full moon. What to expect." He fidgeted under her expectant gaze. Inspiration hit him and he shot out of his seat. "Wait, here!"

He ran up the stairs and Mrs. McCall could hear him rummaging through his bedroom. A moment later he returned with a laptop in hand. Triumphantly, he placed it on the coffee table.

"How's a computer going to help?"

"I made a presentation. With PowerPoint."

Mrs. McCall looked at him.

"Ok, I was bored this week."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Really bored. But look," he brought up the first slide and pressed play. "So, normally, this is Scott."

A picture of Scott appeared on screen. He was wearing his lacrosse uniform and a goofy ear-to-ear grin.

"But then, during the full moon, he's more like this." The image of happy Scott dissolved into a new image of Scott scowling. Scott's mom rolled her eyes, nonplussed. "Hey, you trying taking a picture of a transformed werewolf, see how easy it is for you. That's the best I got. And when the full moon rises, things can get ugly."

The image onscreen dissolved again and was replaced by a graphic plate depicting a figure with the body of a man and a wolf's head clutching a bleeding corpse. Mrs. McCall jerked back from the screen as if she'd been scalded from touching a hot stove. Stiles slammed the computer shut.

"Ok. So that was a bad idea."

Mrs. McCall stood up and began pacing.

"Stiles, I just want to know how to prepare. Is he going to be ok? Will he hurt anyone?" The look on her face was the concern of a parent mixed with the fear of someone faced with a hungry lion.

"No. I don't think so. Hurt anyone. And as long as he stays home, he should be safe. Last month he was fine. Almost complete control. Of course, given past history, anything can happen."

"What happened before?"

"The first time was rough. I mean, Scott was in denial about everything. When he shifted, he thought Derek was after Allison, so he went after Derek. And ended up getting shot by Allison's dad."

Mrs. McCall balled her hands into fists.

"And the second time Allison dumped him. It was bad." Stiles thought about how close his friend had come to killing both Allison and Jackson. It was only Derek's good timing that stopped him from following through. He decided to not go into detail. "Really bad."

"But Scott and Allison are broken up again." Mrs. McCall unclenched her fists. "What do we do?"

He'd had the same worry pulling at the edge of his mind.

Last month Scott was stable, but now that he and Allison were no longer together, Stiles feared his friend could be capable of anything. He reflected for a moment. What he was going to suggest next definitely violated the bro-code. But for once, he had someone he could count on to help him. Someone who wanted to look out for Scott as much as he did.

"I'm glad you asked." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "I have an idea."


	3. The Morning After

As the sun breached the horizon, Melissa McCall felt the last rope of tension loosen its hold on her body. Another rough shift at the hospital mercifully over, with relatively little bad news. She thought of the families that clustered in the ER, hopeful for the slightest hint that tonight was not the night they lost a loved one. The families' uncertainty always caused her heart to ache.

Melissa turned the key in the lock and directed her thoughts to her own family. At least Scott was safe.

The truth of what her son was crouched in the edges of her mind the entire evening, darting in and out like a shadow that wouldn't be chased away by the light.

A werewolf. During the full moon.

Every horror movie she ever saw, every story she ever read came racing back. Her fear of her son's monstrous secret was trumped by her fear of what others might do to her only child. There are those who would kill him. Hunters, who wouldn't hesitate to extinguish the light behind his eyes. Who wouldn't care that he was a sweet boy who simply loved animals and playing lacrosse.

The thought of losing him frightened her more than any story. This fear gave her the courage to be strong and protect the only family she still has. Even if he didn't like it. Knowing that she would find him home, in his bed when she returned helped her focus on her work. On protecting other families from their own losses.

As she climbed the carpeted stairs, she gave a silent thanks to the universe that she and Stiles were able to trap Scott inside his bedroom. One more worry she could put to bed with the rising sun.

Melissa almost passed by Scott's door, afraid to wake him. She noted the wooden dowel of mountain ash seemed undisturbed. Right where she left it. But she can't help her need to see for herself. She pushed the door open slowly.

Scott _is_ there, under the covers. Melissa let out a sigh of relief. She turned to leave, her fear finally soothed into silence.

"Mom?"

His voice was small, timid. Melissa resisted the urge to sweep him into her arms like he was still a little boy. He batted the covers away from his face, so he could see her.

"Hi sweetie, I just got home."

"I know. I heard your key."

"Oh. Right."

Of course he did. Melissa chided herself for forgetting about Scott's new ultra-sensitive hearing. Not that new really, but new to her.

"How was work?"

"Oh, you know. Another crazy full moon."

She saw him cringe and roll over to face the wall. Crap. Awkwardly, Melissa tried to change the subject.

"How was your night?"

"Oh, you know. Another crazy full moon."

His resentment was muted, but still there. Melissa reminded herself that her son was a teenager, whatever else he may be. And teenagers do not enjoy being grounded. Or trapped inside their rooms by mystical barriers.

She walked over to the bed and sat beside him.

"I'm sorry about tonight. About tricking you like that."

Scott turned back towards her.

"It's ok. I get it," he frowned, searching for the right words. "It's not easy, to deal with…what happens." He looked at her for a moment. "For me, either."

"You were….ok?"

"Yeah. More or less." Scott hesitated. Melissa's mom-sense was telling her he was holding something back, but she didn't push it. "I wasn't happy. It's just…"

"A big change."

"More than that. I felt… It felt _wrong_. I wanted to be out there. Not in here. I was angry about what you and Stiles did. But it wasn't _me_. Well, it was, but it wasn't. You know?"

Scott propped himself up on his elbows and peered at her earnestly.

"I didn't shift. Last night."

He watched her expectantly, as if she should understand the greater significance of that news. Unsure of what to say, Melissa says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Uh, congratulations?"

Scott's expression is one teenagers have perfected over the centuries. It translated roughly to: _"Mom, I can't believe you said that. You are an idiot and completely uncool."_

"Don't give me that look, mister," Melissa countered, stung by the thought of no longer being his barometer of social acceptability. "I'm still new to all this!"

"You're doing alright," Scott tried to keep a straight face, his tone mischievous. "For a mom."

She smacked him playfully on the arm.

"Better than alright."

"Ok, ok, fine! Better than alright!" He grinned. Melissa thought back to that first night she found out what he was, guilty at the memory at how she rejected him. How she couldn't look at him, back then.

"It's a lot to get used to. It's scary." Melissa brushed his hair away from his forehead. She'd forgotten what it was like to talk to her son. _Really_ talk.

"I know. I wish I could say that everything will be ok. But I don't know." He paused, his next words cautious. "But at least I have you, right?"

"Always. Never doubt it."

"I won't." Scott bit his lip, and then looked up at her, attempting to appear innocent. "No more lockdowns, right?"

Melissa stood up.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I'm gonna go to bed."

"But how am I supposed to get out tomorrow? Stiles wanted me to meet him at his house!"

She smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Night, kiddo."

"Wait, mom! You didn't answer my question!"

Melissa ignored Scott's protests and walked down the hall to her own bedroom. Stiles had already agreed to let Scott out in a few hours. She decided to let him sweat it out a little while. While she may have been new to raising a werewolf, she wasn't new to exerting parental authority as needed.

She smiled as she sank into bed, exhausted from the night's efforts. Her world may have changed completely, but for today, at least, all was right in it.


	4. The Rest of the Morning After

"So, guess who I saw at The Donut Hut this morning?"

Stiles Stilinski took a break from polishing off his fourth donut. Scott McCall was only on his second. While his mom thought Scott's appetite was pretty impressive, he didn't even come close to Stiles' rabid love affair with food. Scott guessed it was similar to watching one kid chowing down more than an entire football team after the biggest game of their season. Or a single lion eating a herd of gazelles in one round.

The teens were hanging out in Scott's room, playing a round of Halo on Scott's used, but new-to-him, TV.

"Who?"

"Amy Sherman. She says to say 'hi.'"

Scott nearly choked on his donut.

"She also says she had a really fun time with you at Greenberg's party last night. Which, you know strikes me as interesting, considering you were supposed to be confined."

Last night Scott had made out with Amy at a party. He remembered the way she smelled like summer and the way her skin tasted against his tongue. It had been the most enjoyable portion of the evening. Trouble was, last night had been the full moon.

And Scott was a werewolf.

As a defensive tactic, Scott's mom and Stiles had locked him up for the evening. Or so they thought. A friend and fellow lycanthrope had busted Scott out while Stiles watched TV downstairs unaware of the jail-break taking place above.

Stiles glared.

"Uh..."

Scott stalled and tried to come up with a plausible alternative explanation, but realized he had nothing. So he opted for the truth.

"Isaac let me out, he needed a wingman for the party. He knocked the mountain ash away with a branch."

"Oh, well now we all know what an upstanding citizen Lahey is."

Stiles continued glaring. Mentioning Isaac's involvement did nothing to further Scott's case. Isaac was definitely on Stiles' list of people he'd be happy to shove off a cliff if given the chance. Right after Jackson and Derek.

"But it was a good thing! If I hadn't gone to that party, then I wouldn't have been able to find Jackson when Lydia called!"

"Lydia called you?"

Lydia was Stiles's eternal crush since the third grade. Scott realized his mistake in bringing her up. He tried to preempt Stiles' wrath.

"If it makes you feel any better, she called you first. Like, a bunch of times! Guess you had the TV on too loud."

It sounded like a lame excuse, even to Scott.

"No, that doesn't make me feel any better! And by the way, thanks for not inviting me to the biggest party of the Summer! Oh no, you'd rather go hang out with Mr. Isaac-pretty-boy-Lahey than your own best-freaking-friend."

Scott's jaw dropped. He was not touching that accusation with a ten-foot pole. He soon regained his poise and continued defending his actions.

"You would have yelled at me! Kinda like you are now."

"Damn right, I would have yelled. You were supposed to be locked up! Last night was the full moon! You're a werewolf, remember?"

"I'm sorry," Scott offered. He tried to think of anything that could redeem his bad behavior. "I came right back after we found Jackson."

"Don't think that makes it ok. And how did you get the mountain ash back in place, anyway?"

"Oh. Lydia put it back for me."

"You had Lydia, here? Did she see me?"

Stiles squirmed at the thought of the pretty girl catching him in an embarrassing situation. He was prone to talking in his sleep. Scott saw his chance to derail Stiles' verbal assault. He may not be able to go toe-to-toe with his best friend in a battle of words, but Scott recognized when the advantage swung his way. And he wasn't quite ready to let the fact that Stiles teamed up with his mom to drug and capture him slide without a little payback of his own.

"Don't worry, she didn't see you drooling on the couch on the way in."

Scott grinned and grabbed another donut.

"Although, since I was trapped up here, I can't be certain what she did on her way out. She might have stopped by the den. And she may have taken a picture for her phone. Or not. But I think I remember a clicking noise. You should probably check Twitter, since that's where she'd probably post it."

Stiles turned red. Then he attempted to knock the donut out of Scott's hand. Of course, he was no match for werewolf super-speed. Scott's grin widened. Stiles pointed at Scott.

"You know what? You are so getting locked up again next month."


	5. My Life as a Teenage Werewolf

"Really?" Scott McCall looked out the front door, scowling at the deck of his front porch. A line of what looked like gray dirt crossed the planks, hugging the doorway and the sides of the house. "You surrounded the entire house with mountain ash? Really, mom? I'm not going to flee the premises. You can trust me."

"Says you." His mom responded. She folded her arms across her chest. "And frankly, if you want me to feel comfortable with this, then you'll suck it up."

It was a Friday night in June, and yet another full moon. Which wouldn't matter for most people, but seeing as Scott was a werewolf, the full moon affected him more than most teenagers. Or at least it used to until he improved his self control. Despite this promising development in his lycanthropy, his mom stayed on high alert.

Originally, she had wanted to trap Scott in his room like last month, but when Scott balked, she agreed to a staged approach towards expanding his freedom of movement. Which meant that tonight, he was confined to the house. If all went well, she agreed next month to consider sanctioning his being able to leave the house. With a mom-approved supervisor, naturally.

"I already told you, I'm fine! You're overreacting!"

"Someone's starting to sound a little grumpy!" Stiles, Scott's best friend, pushed past him to enter the house. He was carrying a duffel bag.

"Bite me."

"As long as it's not the other way around. I got some great movies, by the way. This'll be fun."

"Easy for you to say."

"Oh, get over it, it's one night. Don't be such a martyr." Stiles rolled his eyes. Then he muttered something under his breath that he knew only Scott would hear. "Wouldn't want your mom to find out about the party last month, would you?"

Scott gritted his teeth. Last full moon, he had managed to sneak out of his bedroom to attend a party, while Stiles watched TV downstairs. Stiles still hadn't really forgiven him for not bringing him along.

If Scott's mom found out he'd escaped once already, she'd never ever agree to let him leave the house during the full moon.

"Fine. What movies did you bring?"

Stiles grinned. He dropped the duffel and started rummaging through it.

"That's more like it! And we've got Assassin 1, 2, and 3. Oh, and Horror House 13."

"I'm not watching those. I hate horror movies." Scott's mom frowned. "We'll get something else on demand."

"What?" Stiles was crestfallen. He'd been looking forward to a night of brainless violence and talking to Scott about their plans for the summer. "I thought this was gonna be a guys' night!"

"Oh, no," Scott said. He waved an arm towards his mom. "She wants to be supportive."

"And I think that as your mom, that is my right." She wrapped an arm around Scott.

Scott sighed. While he was relieved his mom had become more comfortable with the idea of him no longer being human, he chafed at the constant supervision.

"And I've already ordered pizza for all of us," his mom added.

"You did?" Stiles brightened at the mention of food. "You're the best Mrs. McCall!"

"You're the best Mrs. McCall," mimicked Scott. He knew he wouldn't have been in this mess if Stiles had never had the brilliant idea to lock him up last month in the first place. And then told his mom about it.

Stiles punched him in the arm. Scott glared. Stiles mouthed the word, "sour wolf." Scott growled and headed to the den to watch TV, leaving Stiles and his mom standing in the hall. He sprawled across the couch with the best view of the TV, stretching out so that he was practically reclining.

He listened as Stiles and his mom followed, their footsteps loud and easy to track. Stiles gave him a dirty look when he saw Scott had claimed the good couch and then sat on the other couch, kicking off his shoes and putting his feet on the coffee table. Scott tried not to gag at the smell, which Stiles knew would bother his powerful nose.

Scott's mom sat next to Stiles, unaware of the silent skirmish.

Scott closed his eyes. Even though he would be able to control the shift tonight, he still felt the moon's pull as it edged above the horizon. He knew he was acting testier than usual, but he didn't care. He also knew the moon wasn't entirely to blame for his bad behavior, either.

"So, what did you want to watch, Mom?" Scott asked, eyes still closed. The moon was cresting the treeline now.

"How about the new Bond?"

"Not a half-bad suggestion," said Stiles. He liked anything with lots of action and spy movies fit the bill nicely.

"Yeah, it's fine," said Scott.

He was relieved his mom hadn't chosen a romantic comedy. Having just gone through a breakup last month, he didn't think he could handle being subjected to a sugary love story where everything worked out in the end. Just the idea made him want to shred the couch with his claws. He imagined the satisfying way he'd rip into the back of the couch, forcing the cotton stuffing to spill out. It probably would make an awesome sound, too. He felt his fingertips tingle in response to his thoughts. Scott opened his eyes and held up a hand, checking to see if he'd accidentally shifted.

At that moment the doorbell rang.

"That must be the pizza. Would one of you boys get it? The money's on the table." Melissa looked pointedly at Scott.

"Stiles should probably do it," he said with a sly smile. "Wouldn't want to risk accidentally mauling the delivery guy."

"What!" Stiles jumped to his feet, indignant. "That is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard!"

"Hey! Language!" Scott's mom said.

"But, he's fine!" Stiles protested, pointing at Scott.

"I don't know Stiles. I'm a werewolf on a full moon and all. Could be dangerous." Scott's smiled widened. "I really shouldn't risk it."

"Please."

"Well, how exactly am I supposed to give him money if I can't cross the threshold, anyway?" Scott put his arms behind his head and made a show of getting comfortable. "Run along, _garçon_."

Stiles glowered for a moment and then headed to the kitchen to get the money. Scott laughed but stopped when he saw the look on his mom's face.

"That wasn't very nice, Scott." Her tone was sharp and Scott could smell her irritation.

"Well, it's true," He defended himself. "I can't cross the threshold. Maybe if you had made the ring of mountain ash a little bigger. Or if it hadn't been there at all, I would have been able to get the pizza..."

"I'm gonna go grab some plates." His mom said and she went into the kitchen. Feeling vindicated, Scott closed his eyes again, listening simultaneously to Stiles talking to the delivery guy and his mom opening cabinets in the kitchen.

Stiles came back first and Scott opened his eyes, watching as he carried two large pizza boxes into the room. Stiles placed the pizza on the table so that it was just out of Scott's reach in his current position then opened the top box and grabbed a slice, folding it in half so that he could fit as much as possible in his mouth. He nearly got the whole slice in one bite.

Scott sat up and reached in to grab a slice. He was hungrier than he realized and as he bit down, he felt his teeth begin to sharpen in response to his hunger. Stiles's eyes widened and Scott grinned, flashing his fangs.

"Guys! Can't you at least hold off for two minutes while I get the plates and napkins? What are you, animals?" His mom was carrying napkins and paper plates in one hand and a stack of plastic cups in the other.

"Some of us more than others," drawled Stiles. He smirked at Scott and grabbed another slice. Scott reddened, his teeth quickly returning to normal. He should be doing his best to make sure his mom didn't dwell on his supernatural side. He decided to try harder to behave so that this would be the last night he was under house arrest.

Luckily, Scott's mom had missed the reference. Instead, she sat down and made a point of transferring a slice of pizza neatly onto a plate. She unfolded a napkin and placed it on her lap. She was about to take a bite when she paused.

"Shoot, I forgot the soda," she stood up.

"I'll get it," Scott volunteered, determined now to stay on his mom's good side. And Stiles was less likely to talk werewolf stuff with his mouth full, so he didn't have to worry as much about leaving them unsupervised. Still, he figured he probably shouldn't leave them alone for too long.

"Thanks, sweetie." She sat back down and bit into her own slice of pizza.

He raced into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of regular coke for him and Stiles and the diet coke for his mom.

"That was quick," his mom said when he returned. He put the bottles on the table.

"Oh, really?" Scott said. "I didn't notice."

"Well, you see, that's the thing with were..." Stiles started.

"Hey, let's start the movie!" Scott interrupted.

"Good idea, hang on, I'll do it." His mom picked up the remote and pressed a button. She frowned when nothing happened. Scott usually was the one who took charge of the remote for the on demand or DVR stuff. "Hmm, that's not it."

Stiles gave him a funny look. Scott drew a hand across his throat to signal he should cut it out. Scott nodded his head towards his mom, who was now just pressing buttons at random. Stiles shrugged, raising his hands in question. Scott shifted his left hand, pointed at it with his right hand and then made the throat slashing motion again. Stiles rolled his eyes and then nodded.

"Oh!" exclaimed his mom as the movie finally appeared on screen. "I did it! And you say I don't know how to work the TV."

"Great, mom!" Scott said, hoping he sounded enthusiastic and not sarcastic.

The next two and half hours passed uneventfully, although the moon above tugged at his attention, making him want to get up and pace. Instead, Scott forced himself to sit still, but not so still he didn't seem human. Not that he should have been worried. His mom's eyes were glued to the screen the whole time. When the movie ended Scott got up.

"Why don't I go put the food and stuff away?"

"Thanks," replied his mom. "I'll find us something else to watch."

"No romcoms!" said Scott. His mom huffed. "Seriously, mom!"

"And I'll go put my stuff upstairs," Stiles said. "Pretty sure it's still in the hall."

Scott carried the empty pizza boxes and trash into the kitchen. The soda wasn't gone so he didn't bother clearing the bottles or cups. As he stuffed the garbage into the plastic container under the sink he listened to his mom surfing through the channel guide. She apparently found something because the annoying guide channel chatter was replaced by creepy music. Scott smiled. Maybe she'd found something good.

"Hey mom, find something..."

The question died on his lips as he saw what was on screen. His mom had put on a werewolf movie.

It must have been old because it was in black and white. A figure that resembled a man in a fur suit ran down the streets of a city in a frenzy, stopping in an alley to howl at the full moon. It was the scene of the werewolf changing for the first time. Scott wasn't sure how he knew that, only that he did. Maybe because he recognized the anguish in the actor's performance.

He grabbed the remote and changed the channel. His mom jumped.

"I thought you didn't like horror movies," he said. She looked at him guiltily.

"I don't, I just was curious."

"About what?" For once, Stiles's timing was impeccable. He flopped onto the couch with the good view and grabbed the remote. He brought up the channel guide and started scrolling. "Oh, hey! 'The Wolfman' is on tonight. Love that movie!"

When no one else responded Stiles looked from Scott to his mom to the TV and then back to Scott. Stiles's expression changed from confusion to understanding and Scott could practically see a cartoon light bulb go on over his head.

"And it looks like you both knew that, already."

"We're watching something else," said Scott. He sat down next to Stiles and crossed his arms across his chest. He tried to ignore the way his mom's heart had started to race.

"Scott, I just..."

"Forget it."

"You, know I think I'm gonna check my email." Stiles jumped up from the couch and fled the room. "I'll be in Scott's room!"

Scott turned his attention towards the screen, now filled with drunken housewives arguing about some perceived slight someone said.

"No," his mom grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. "I don't want to forget about it. I want to talk about it."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

She moved next to Scott.

He eyed her warily. He remembered when she first found out what he was. Back then she wouldn't even look at him. For over a week she avoided him, not even daring to be in the same room. Now, she refused to back away from him. Progress, apparently.

"I've been doing some research."

"You, Stiles. What is it with people and research?" Scott grumbled. Truth was, he'd been doing some of his own research, trying to better understand what he was. Unfortunately, most of it didn't really help.

"Well, most of it isn't very helpful," said his mom. "So, I thought I'd go to the source."

Scott didn't reply. He felt awkward, talking to his mom about something that he didn't really quite understand himself. Also, he worried about freaking her out again. What if she started avoiding him again? What was he supposed to do then?

"Hey, you're the one who wanted us to talk about this!" She threw up her hands, frustrated. "Well, I'm ready to talk."

"Fine." Scott relented. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, um." His mom ran her fingers through her hair. She'd been expecting more of a fight. "Well, I guess the basics."

"The basics?"

"You know, like what can you do? I mean, I know you can hear better than before. But what else has changed?"

_Everything,_ thought Scott.

He decided to keep his answers as straightforward as possible. "Well, there's that. And I have a much better sense of smell, obviously, and sight, too."

"And you're faster," mused his mom, no doubt remembering how quickly he'd fetched the soda.

"Yeah."

"How fast?"

"Um, very." Scott wasn't sure how to answer that. He'd never exactly timed himself. "Like a car on the highway, maybe? If I was really trying."

His mom's eyes widened. He decided to move on by changing the topic slightly.

"Oh, I don't need my inhaler anymore."

"Thanks for the heads up," his mom gently smacked his arm."That explains why the pharmacy hasn't asked me to renew your prescription."

"Sorry. But I couldn't exactly tell you."

"I know," she sighed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Scott kept his eyes on the floor, but he could hear his mom pretend to pluck lint off her sweatshirt. Finally, she spoke again.

"What else?"

"Um, I'm a lot stronger. And I heal really fast."

"I remember," she said. Her expression changed and Scott knew she was thinking of the night he was shot at the police station. She'd pleaded with Matt to let her take him to a hospital when really it was only a matter of minutes before he'd recover. Not that she had known that.

It was the only time he really regretted not telling her sooner. He hated seeing her devastated like that. Had she known what he was, he could have spared her that horrible moment. But Scott also understood that now that his mom knew the truth, there could be a lot more moments like it to come. Especially if more hunters came to Beacon Hills.

"Anything else?" Scott tried to change the subject. His mom came out of her reverie. She bit her lip, searching for a question.

"How did you know when I was lying? When Stiles and I were going to lock you up last time. When we were in the kitchen and you told me I was lying."

"Well, you smelled guilty."

"I smelled guilty," his mom repeated. She arched an eyebrow.

"Yes," Scott shifted in his seat, not sure how to explain. "I, we, can smell people's emotions."

"You can really smell what I'm feeling?"

"Yeah. When someone feels guilty or lies, it smells a certain way. Not sure how to describe it. It smells sort of sharp. Like vinegar, but way stronger." Scott tried to remember all the sensations he experienced when he encountered a person lying. "And their heart starts beating faster. Their voice changes a little. I mean, it's pretty obvious."

"And what am I feeling right now?" His mom tensed, digging her nails into the tops of her legs. Scott considered playing dumb, just to make her feel a little better. Instead, he opted for the truth.

"Freaked out." Scott answered. "Although I don't think I need heightened senses to figure that out. I mean, you are my mom after all. Kinda known you a long time."

"Right," she relaxed her hands and spread her fingers out. "Of course."

Scott's phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out to check the screen and then laughed.

"What is it?" His mom asked.

"It's Stiles. He wants to know if he can come down now."

"Figures." She shook her head a little and now she was laughing too. "I'm amazed he hasn't already."

"Well, can he?" Scott asked. "Or should he stay upstairs?"

"Tell Stiles he can come back," his mom said. She patted Scott on the shoulder. "I think that's enough werewolf talk for one night."

"You sure?"

His mom stood up.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm gonna go to bed. You guys can watch your assassin movies." She reached over and ruffled Scott's hair a little. "Tomorrow we'll talk about how to handle your free-range probation for next month."

"Yes!" Scott said, raising his arms in victory. "Thank you! You're the best mom in the whole wide world."

"Love you too, kiddo." His mom laughed again and headed upstairs. A moment later Stiles came racing into the room.

"So? What I'd miss?" Stiles was panting, tired from his brief sprint downstairs. "What happened?"

"Nothing," replied Scott. "Everything's good."


	6. Wolf in the Woods

Melissa McCall knew you weren't supposed to wake a sleeping monster.

In the darkened room, she could hear soft snores. She slipped through the partially open door, careful not to make a sound that would reveal her presence. Clothes, shoes and books were strewn everywhere and it looked like a small tornado had hit the otherwise ordinary bedroom. The monster lay carefully concealed in the bed, safe from prying eyes. Melissa took a deep breath and drank in the calm that filled the room. Part of her didn't want to wake the monster.

But Melissa ignored conventional wisdom and snapped open the window shade, allowing blinding light to fill the room.

The figure hiding under the covers groaned. Melissa smiled and pulled up the next shade, this one located directly above the bed. The monster groaned again, pulling the covers tighter over his head. Melissa walked to foot of the bed, took hold of the covers—and yanked as hard as she could.

"Argh!" Scott McCall scowled as the dazzling light streamed across his face. "Mom! What are you doing?"

"It's nearly noon! Time to get up, Scott!"

"It's Saturday. In the middle of July. Why do I have to get up?" The teen rubbed his eyes and tried to smooth his messy hair. "Besides, werewolves are nocturnal. We're not supposed to be up this early."

Melissa folded her arms across her chest and looked at her son.

"Being a werewolf doesn't excuse lying around in bed all day."

"Whatever."

Scott reached for the covers. Melissa swatted his hand away and he growled.

"Watch it, kiddo." She glared at her son. "You're getting up. We have plans."

"But mom! It's summer vacation—the whole point is to not have plans." Scott swung his legs over the edge of the bed and slowly stood up. "Except for fun ones."

"This will be fun. We're gonna do something you've been bugging me about for a long time."

"We're going to Vegas and you're going to let me gamble?" Scott grinned.

"No, we're not going to Vegas." Melissa threw up her arms. "Honestly!"

"Well, what _are_ we doing?"

"We're going camping, up at the mountains. I have two days off in a row and thought it might be fun for us to finally go. Everything's ready and loaded in the car. You just need to pack some clothes."

"Really?" Scott's face brightened. They hadn't been camping since the divorce, although he'd begged his mom every summer. "You remember the stuff for S'mores?"

"Yep."

"What about bug spray?"

"Got it."

"What about..."

Melissa held up a hand. Scott's mouth hung open, his question left unfinished.

"Scott, trust me, I have it covered, right down to the band-aids in the first-aid kit."

Scott raced over to his dresser and began rummaging through his clothes. Melissa smiled at his enthusiasm. Just like when he was a little—Scott hard a hard time hiding his excitement. His whole face lit up like every day was Christmas. It was the thing she missed most about those days.

He pulled on a pair of shorts and the first T-shirt he grabbed. Once dressed, he began throwing a flurry of clothing onto the still unmade bed. Scott then dove underneath the bed, emerging triumphantly with a beat-up canvas duffel. He shoved the clothes into the duffel and looked at his mom. After a second glance around the room he added a pair of sneakers.

"Ok, ready!"

Melissa put her hands on her hips and sighed.

"What about toiletries, genius?"

"Oh, right."

Scott moved so fast that he was just a blur racing to and from the bathroom. Melissa tried not to gasp at the speed her son was now capable of, but it always amazed her to see it in action. The blur dumped an armful of stuff into the duffel bag and zipped it up. Finally at normal speed again, Scott shoved his feet into his sneakers and hefted the duffel over his shoulder. He stared at his mom with an expectant look on his face.

"Ok. _Now_, am I ready?"

Melissa ran her supply checklist through her mind, after a moment she nodded.

"Head out front and I'll start the car."

* * *

They sat in comfortable silence as they wound their way up into the hills. Even though she had the AC on, Scott insisted on cracking the window. "For the breeze!" he claimed, but Melissa swore she caught him tilting his nose out the window, more than once. She tried not to notice, partly so she didn't embarrass Scott, but mostly to keep her mind from unleashing the thoughts such observations led to.

The drive to the mountains lasted just over an hour and set against a bright blue sky and clear sunshine, the scenery was breathtaking. The pines stretched tall and straight, like evergreen sentries guarding against danger. As they approached their destination, the valleys and hills became sharper and more pronounced in their extremes. At last, they drove down a small dirt road and pulled into the familiar gravel parking lot a mile into the woods.

"Are you sure you can handle carrying all that? I mean, that's gotta weigh a ton."

Melissa eyed all the gear Scott had secured to his pack frame. In addition to his duffel, Scott insisted on taking the tent, both sleeping bags and all the food. The towering mass of stuff seemed dangerously close to pulling her son forward and causing him to face plant on the ground.

Scott looked at his mom and rolled his eyes.

"I can handle it, Mom. Super-strength, remember? C'mon, we should get going if we want to make to the other side of the mountain before sunset."

He turned and headed towards the trailhead. Sure enough, his gait was easy and unburdened, as if the pack strapped to his back didn't even register. Melissa sighed and pulled on her own pack. She locked the car and headed after Scott.

"Right. You've got super strength now," she muttered under her breath. "Silly of me to forget that. What do I know-I'm just the mom. I forgot teenagers have _all_ the answers."

"I heard that," Scott called over his shoulder and he started up the wide path.

"Good!" Melissa yelled back. After a few minutes she caught up to Scott and they fell into a comfortable rhythm, chatting about her work and Scott's plans for the upcoming year. There were stretches they walked in complete silence, just enjoying their surroundings. It had been a long time since Melissa could remember feeling this relaxed.

Finally, they arrived at the site with more than a full hour of daylight left. By the time Melissa had dropped her pack and taken a breather, Scott nearly had the tent pitched.

"Need help, honey?"

"Nope, got it, Mom!" Scott hammered the final post in place. He then unfurled the sleeping bags and brought the cooler over to Melissa. He handed her a bottle of water. "I'm gonna get some firewood. You relax." Scott raced off into the trees.

"Well, alright, I think I will." Melissa sat down on one of the log benches surrounding the fire pit. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

She looked around the campsite. Not much had changed since their last visit. In fact, the only thing that had changed was them. She was—older. She definitely didn't remember feeling this sore from climbing when Scott was eleven—and now he was nearly grown up. She realized that she relished the fact that her son seemed to enjoy the whole experience as much as he did when he was little. His childhood went by so quickly that Melissa took comfort in the few holdovers that remained.

Her face darkened as her thoughts turned to everything that had happened in the past few months. Try as she might, she understood that she couldn't protect Scott from the world; that was only a natural insight every parent experienced. But his world had become even more dangerous than she had realized. If she couldn't keep him safe, who would?

A low growl from behind interrupted her reverie. Melissa leapt to her feet and spun around to see a mountain lion crouched at the edge of their camp. She took a few steps backwards, her eyes locked on the enormous cat and tried to remember any camping advice she'd read about handling mountain lion encounters. The animal moved closer as she retreated.

_Don't retreat_, the first rule bubbled up in her mind. Melissa froze. The mountain lion stopped its approach. _Make yourself bigger._ Unfortunately, she wasn't wearing a jacket or anything that could make her seem larger. She searched her mind for anything else. The big cat crouched as if it was readying to pounce. Melissa braced herself, getting ready to run and her foot brushed against an extra tent pole. Not much of a weapon, but it'd have to do. Slowly, she bent down and picked up the pole, never taking her eyes off the big cat.

_Make noise. _

Melissa raised the pole in what she hoped was a threatening manner and shouted.

"Back off!"

The mountain lion didn't move. Melissa shouted again, louder.

"I said. Back. OFF!" Without warning, the animal bared its teeth and hissed. She swung wildly with the pole. The mountain lion slunk away into the forest.

"That's right! You go ahead and run away, kitty," Melissa laughed. "That's what happens when you mess with Melissa..." A branch cracked behind her. She turned around and found herself face-to-face with Scott. His eyes were yellow and his hands had become claws. She dropped the pole. "Guess it wasn't afraid of me after all."

Scott didn't say anything, but instead stared into the woods. After a moment he relaxed and his hands and eyes shifted back to normal.

"Are you ok?" Concern filled his eyes. "I ran back as soon as I heard it."

"I'm fine," Melissa said. "Will it be back?"

Scott stood still for a moment, head cocked as if listening for something. "No. It's heading down into the valley. It won't come near here until I'm gone."

"Oh." _Because it's scared of you. Because you're the bigger predator._ The thought rose from the depths of her subconscious, where Melissa tried to keep her fear safely buried. She felt her heartbeat begin to pick up and hoped that Scott wouldn't notice. She crossed her arms. "That's...good."

"I left the firewood just outside camp. I'll go get it. Stay put-I'll be back in less than a minute." Melissa started at the authority in Scott's voice. He didn't sound like the laughing kid he'd been an hour earlier. She thought again of everything she'd missed before she discovered the truth and felt a twinge of guilt.

"Ok." She nodded.

True to his word, Scott returned with the wood in less than a minute. He started arranging the kindling for the base of the fire.

"Here, let me help."

Melissa kneeled down next to Scott and began stacking the kindling into a triangular tower.

"Thanks."

Scott refused to look at her and she knew he felt self-conscious. It seemed her fear had seeped out despite her efforts to contain it. Every time she thought she'd made progress accepting her new reality, the fear would whisper in her ear, causing her and Scott to take a step back. Melissa was determined not to listen to the fear. She would meet it head-on for the sake of her family. She could do that—for Scott.

"Seems like cats don't like werewolves very much, do they?" She said.

Scott looked up in surprise at her directness.

"Uh, no. Not really."

"What about dogs?"

"Well, they listen to me. Not sure like is the right word. More like respect."

"Cause you rank higher up the food chain?" Melissa asked. Scott furrowed his brows and she cursed inwardly; she'd struck a nerve.

"Yeah. I guess you could say that," Scott replied and he frowned. "I'm not really sure I like the way that sounds. I don't plan on eating a dog. Or a cat, for that matter."

"Noted."

Melissa reached into her cooking kit and pulled out the long-necked lighter. She clicked the starter and guided the flame into the heart of the kindling. She watched as the flame took hold and spread up the tower they'd constructed. The fire cast shadows upon their faces and she noticed that the sun had slipped beneath the trees. She was glad they had the fire started.

"Do we need to worry about anything other than mountain lions? Like, wolves maybe?"

"No wolves in California." Scott sat on the log bench next to the cooler. He started rifling through the bags. "Just werewolves. I think there might be coyotes around, but I'm not sure. Hey, where's the S'more..."

Scott stopped mid-sentence and looked off towards the next peak over. Melissa watched as he listened to some sound she couldn't hear.

"It looks like there are coyotes here after all."

"You heard a coyote?" Melissa asked and Scott nodded. He stood up and turned in a slow circle. Suddenly, a haunting howl filled the air, echoing through the woods. It was followed by another, and then another until there seemed to be dozens of howls reverberating throughout the night.

"There's a pack of them," Scott said. A wistful look crossed his face. From the few conversations they'd had about werewolf stuff, she knew that Scott wasn't in a pack. She wondered if he'd be happier if he was. She knew he'd be safer.

"What are they doing? Why are they howling?"

"To find out where everyone is." Scott sat back down. "And to warn of danger."

"Do they know about you?"

"Not sure. Sounded like they were just checking in."

"How can you tell?"

"I just can. It's something that...side knows."

"Oh." Melissa warmed her hands next to the flames. She looked at Scott. "Can you howl?"

He blushed.

"Yeah. I've done it once or twice."

"Really? What's it like?"

"I don't know." Scott kicked the dirt and started pacing around the fire. "Like a howl!"

"Can I hear?"

"What?" He stopped pacing. "Mom! There are coyotes out there!"

"So? Are they going to come after us?"

"No."

The howling started up again and Scott's expression became wistful again.

"Ok, fine." He moved to the edge of the camp site and faced away from her. He took a breath and then turned back towards her. The coyotes were still howling.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just—I can't do it if I know you're watching me."

"I'll look away," Melissa promised. She switched her position so that she was looking out into the woods instead of at the fire. Scott must have been satisfied because she heard the leaves shuffle as he moved back to the edge of the camp.

There was a lull in the chorus and then the silence was pierced with a low howl that rumbled through the air like a freight train, so strong she felt it in her bones. Her eyes widened when she realized that the source of this new howl was_ Scott_.

The fear whispered in her ear, but she ignored it.

After an eternity, the single note trailed off and the woods around them became eerily silent. Then, the coyotes' howling started up again, comfortably far from where she sat. Melissa turned back around and waited.

Scott turned around and was grinning.

"They know I'm here now."

"Yeah, no kidding," Melissa rolled her eyes. "You could have warned me it would be so...loud."

"Sorry," Scott said, not looking sorry at all. "Still needs work, but it was kinda fun to practice."

"Why does it need work?"

"Derek and…other werewolves sound more like wolves."

"And that's a good thing?"

"Hello, it's were-_wolf_! Of course that's a good thing!" Scott sat down on the log next to Melissa. She put her arm around him.

"Mom!"

"Oh come on! We're in the middle of the woods. I think I can hug my son without embarrassing him."

Scott smiled and put a hand on the ground behind the bench. Melissa ruffled his hair. "Ready for some S'mores?"

Scott grinned and held up a pair of perfect marshmallow sticks.

"I thought you'd never ask."


End file.
